The Call
by bcsbookworm
Summary: Lestrade receives the call about Sherlock's suicide.


**I do not own Sherlock! I do not own BBC. If I did . . . .**

Lestrade knew his officers were staring at him. He didn't care. He knew his officers knew he speaking to Anderson and Donovan as little as possible. He didn't care.

It hadn't been long into the work day that everyone found out that Anderson and Donovan had forced him to go to the Superintendent. It wasn't as if many of his people _liked_ Sherlock, but they did like him more than Donovan and Anderson, and they did acknowledge that he helped on cases and made their jobs easier.

But is had still come as a shock when the others began to give Donovan and Anderson the cold shoulder. Even Dimmock's team began to do it when they found out. Dimmock, bless the young man, had come to his side in the break room.

"It's ridiculous," Dimmock had said. "How did the Superintendent not know Sherlock Holmes was helping us? It _was_ in the news."

Lestrade had shrugged.

"Do you really have to bring him in for questioning?"

"If we catch him. And you haven't met his brother yet."

Dimmock had looked surprised. "He has a brother? What does he do?"

"He's the British Government."

So far, those under his command had not reported seeing Sherlock, and his call to Mrs. Hudson proved that Sherlock wasn't at home. He hadn't, however, answered Mrs. Hudson's worried questions.

His phone rang. With a heavy sigh Lestrade stopped looking at the reports one of his officer had given him, and dug his phone out of his pocket.

Molly Hooper.

He didn't have any current murder investigations. What on earth could she be calling about? Lestrade handed the reports back to the officer and held up a finger before answering.

"Lestrade here."

"Detective Inspector."

Her voice sounded tense. Strained. Lestrade frowned.

"Miss Hooper, what is it?"

There was what sounded like a sob. Phones were tricky, he couldn't be sure.

"I-it's Sherlock," Molly said. "And Moriarty."

"What about them?" Lestrade asked.

"J-Jim'—I mean—Moriarity's body was found on the roof of St. Bart's. He'd shot himself."

"That's good isn't it?" Lestrade asked. That was callous, but Lestrade wasn't going to feel sad over the death of the man who'd begun to ruin Sherlock Holmes and had forced his officers to attempt to arrest him last night. "We can prove Moriarty's existence right?"

Another sob.

"Molly?"

"Sherlock . . . Sherlock's dead!"

He felt ice run through his body, starting at his stomach and spreading to the base of his spine and up. Lestrade gripped the mobile tighter.

"What?"

"Sherlock's dead. He . . . he jumped. Off St. Bart's."

"Moriarity didn't kill him?"

"N-no. According to witnesses, they heard a gunshot, and then moments l-later, Sh-Sherlock jumped. I . . . I have them both here. I . . . John's been picked up by a man saying he was Sherlock's brother."

"Mycroft," Lestrade breathed. He reached for a cubicle wall to steady himself. "Are you sure . . . _suicide_?"

People looked up. He hadn't been as quiet as he thought he'd been.

"I'm really sorry, Greg." Molly hung up.

Lestrade stared at his phone.

"Sir?" He looked at the officer whose reports he'd been looking at. She'd stayed nearby. "Sir, are you all right? Do you want some water?"

"Sir?" It was Donovan. "Sir, do you need help?"

Anger, burning anger replaced the ice inside him. Lestrade fisted his phone.

"Remember how you were always saying that someday we'd find a body, and Sherlock would be the one to put it there?" Lestrade asked, his teeth clenched.

"Yeah. Why? Did he finally off someone? His pet?"

"Yes!" Lestrade shout, rounding on Donovan. "Himself!"

The office fell silent. Donovan's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. Lestrade felt pleased at finally shutting her up.

"Sherlock Holmes jumped off St. Bart's," Lestrade said. "From what I understand, it wasn't too long ago. The body of Jim Moriarity was found on top of the building. Since I'm probably about to be suspended, Dimmock will most likely head the investigation. And when it is proven that Sherlock Holmes was a true, brilliant, consulting detective, _you_ will have a lot to answer for. For yourself, to John, and me." Lestrade glared at Donovan before spinning on his heel and heading for the door.

He needed to check on John.


End file.
